Mysteries of the Heart
by burningtrashheap
Summary: Everyone gets a letter with the first name of their soul mate. You don't know when or where you'll meet them. Johnlock/kidlock AU rated T for mild language.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

No one knows who sends the letters; The letters with the name of your soulmate. No one knows who, or how this existential force is, or how it determines when you are ready to receive your letter. All we know is that everyone, at some point around the age of 15-17 gets a letter containing the name of your soulmate; only the first name. This makes finding The One a bit daunting.

Sherlock Holmes, received his letter at 15. The envelope was a crisp white, sealed with a red wax glob, and the seal of a great lion imprinted upon it. He opened the letter impatiently, yet with care, extracting the seemingly fragile parchment. In beautiful calligraphy,was scrawled the name John. Sherlock stared at the parchment discontentedly. How on earth was he going to find the right John? He grimaced and stuffed the parchment back into the envelope, and crammed it in his desk drawer. "Sherlock! You'll be late!" His mother's voice almost burned his ears. Glaring he stood up, grabbing his bag and stomping downstairs. He hurried out the door, and jogged down the street trying to get to school. He had left an experiment in the lab, with permission from his chemistry professor and was excited to see his results. He hurried down the path and wasn't paying much attention, and collided with someone, causing him to drop his folder full of data. "Ugh! Watch it you idiot!" He shouted. The curly headed boy shot his icy blue eyes at the blond, simple boy whom he had just run into. "What? You ran into me you git!" He shouted back. Without retorting, Sherlock bent down to gather up his papers. The blond boy knelt down and helped. "What are you helping for?" Sherlock hissed. "It's called being polite, a concept you clearly don't comprehend." The blond boy spat back, shoving the papers into the arms of the curly headed boy. The blond boy glared at Sherlock one last time before walking to his original destination.

With a huff, Sherlock walked to the lab, excitedly rushing to one of the hoods in the corner where his experiment was stored. Carefully Sherlock cradled the petri dish over to the microscope and peered down the neck to observe his project. "Oh wow! Mr. Rubright, you were right about the temperature change! Just one degree more made the bacteria reproduce at incredible rates!" the young boy marveled at the concoction, mouth gaping in amazement. "Yeah, it grew pretty fast for that kind of bacteria. Oh Sherlock, do you have those lab reports for the bioluminescence project?"

Sherlock Peered up from the microscope to nudge his head to the file by his bag. "It's all in there, and you'll have to do some searching, some stupid twat ran into me and knocked it all out of my hands." He said cynically. "Was it Jonas again?" Mr. Rubright inquired, shuffling through the pile of impressive papers. "Nah, some blond kid. Never seen him before, but i could tell he'd just moved here, because he didn't…" Sherlock trailed off, partly because he was focused on his bacteria, but mostly because he was was going to point out the lack of belittling remarks he heard from the boy. Nearly everyone in the school had something bad to say about Sherlock, the ones that didn't say it to his face claimed they "didn't want to get to close." The professor steppe over to the table where the mop of ebony curls still hunched over the microscope. "Yeah, I heard the school was getting a new student...Er, Watson I think his name is."

'Doesn't matter what his name is, give him a day or two and he'll be like the rest. He seemed that type." Sherlock huffed.

After the bell rang, Sherlock reluctantly gathered his things and headed to class. He flopped in his seat in the back, and stared sourly out the window, counting down every second until the end of the day. "Alright class, today we have a new student with us, John Watson. He just moved so make him feel welcome!" The teacher shouted. She looked at the young boy and scanned the room and then pointed at the always empty seat next top Sherlock. "Go on and sit there." John shuffled to the back, dreading the inevitable encounter. He flopped in the seat and dropped his bag, glaring at the boy he had met earlier that morning. Sherlock glared out of the corner of his eye and rolled them dramatically; making it well known he wanted nothing to do with this, John Watson boy.

The lunch bell rang, and not a moment too soon. Sherlock grabbed up his things and tried to bolt for the door. "Hey!" He heard the blond boy's voice call out. Sherlock stopped and sloppily turned on his heel to face him. "What?" He spat angrily, John glared and scoffed "So I see you've just got a shit attitude no matter what, Great. Never mind." He said, shoving past Sherlock, bumping his shoulder. Sherlock shook his head and stormed away to the lab. On his way he saw John talking to a group of boys who hated Sherlock in particular. He knew it, not even a full day and he was already against him.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

The weeks passed quickly into a couple of months, and Sherlock noticed John hanging out more and more with the people dedicated to making his life miserable, there were a few small encounters involving name calling and unnecessary insults from across the school yard; Sherlock noted that John never engaged though, he always just sort of stood by and let it happen. Sherlock supposed that was a reasonable action, he hadn't been exactly welcoming to the new student.

It was a new day, and Sherlock followed his routine, and reported straight to the lab to check on whatever experiment he had been working on. Currently, Sherlock was studying the behavior of two turtles he had confiscated from other classrooms. The boy's curls bounced as he jogged into the lab, but his thoughtful grin was ripped from his face when he saw John, and the group of boys who bullied him. And of course, no professor in sight. "What are you lot doing in here? Don't you know your IQ has to be higher than your age to do anything properly in a lab?" Sherlock said with snark. A rough looking boy with dusty brown hair and pale green eyes turned and took a few steps towards Sherlock. "Did you just call me stupid?" He asked menacingly. Sherlock stood his ground, swallowing hard trying to ignore his will to run, he clenched his fists and retorted "The truth hurts." The larger boy's eyebrows narrowed into rage. Sherlock noticed his fist, and saw the beginnings of his arms about to rear back and throw a punch. Sherlock did the only thing that could save him now. "Is it mornings or nights?" He asked loudly, tensing up as the boys fist began hurling at his face. The brown haired boy stopped in confusion "What?"

"Mornings or nights? When your father drinks the most?" A silence came across the room. "What What are you getting at?" The boy asked becoming more frustrated. "Your constant aggression towards other people, people like me, those smaller than you suggests one of two things, one your father drinks and probably hits you, or you've got a small penis," The Boy's fit went back up and was about to collide as Sherlock continued "But! Since you're mean to your friends as well that infers that you feel insecure, insecurity brought on by your father because it's always the boys you pick on. But your father doesn't hit you does he? He drinks though, and they go hand in hand so he must hit your mother. That why you don't bully girls, because you love your mother and it hurts you to see women in pain so you pick on boys as a way to get revenge on your father am I correct?" By the time Sherlock had finished, The Boy in front of him had been reduced to tears, sobbing where he stood like a child lost in a store. "Y-You Bastard!" He spat through repressed tears, storming off to the hall, his posse chasing after him, except one.

Sherlock exhaled and dropped his bag on the floor, before realising someone else was still in the room with him. "That was incredible…" A small voice said in obvious marvel. Sherlock turned to see his blond haired enemy standing there in awe. "That was...Amazing! How did you do that?" He asked, walking over to Sherlock. "What? Do what? I don't understand." The curly headed boy asked confused. "All that...talking you did just there, making Jeremy cry, how did you know all that stuff about him?" Sherlock hesitantly answered "Well...by his clothes." "His clothes?" John asked skeptically. The curls on Sherlock's head bobbed as he nodded, still a little shaken from the event. "Well, his shirt is untucked, and wrinkled but very clean and alcoholics don't care about cleanliness, and neither do teenage boys so that means there's a mother in the picture who cares." He said, trailing off as he explained, remembering that this boy hated him. "That...That's amazing!" John marveled. Sherlock stopped in his tracks, not believing what he just heard. He slowly turned, "W-what?" John had a big grin on his face and eyes full of awe "That is outstanding, you got all that from his clothes!" Sherlock had never seen anyone so excited about his deduction skills before. "I guess, it isn't that big of a deal." Sherlock shrugged it off, feeling self conscious, but in a good way. "I think it's awesome, how can you do that?" Sherlock stood puzzled by this person who had, as of 10 minutes ago, hated him. "I don't know, I've always just been observant." John chuckled still clearly amazed. "That's a real gift you've got." He praised once more, pulling up a chair. Sherlock watched him from the corner of his eye as he sat to his microscope. "I suppose, that's not usually what people say." Sherlock responded. "Oh yeah? What do they usually say?" John asked, resting his chin on his fist. Sherlock looked up and smirked devilishly and answered, "Piss off." John giggled shaking his head. "So, I thought you hated me, what changed?" Sherlock asked, fiddling the knob on the microscope. "What? I never hated you." John said, a bit offended. This caught Sherlock's full attention. "What? Of course you did." Sherlock turned his body to the blond haired boy. "No, I didn't. I didn't appreciate you being rude to me, but I never hated you." John explained, looking curiously at the curly headed boy. Sherlock narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, observing this profoundly perplexing person. "Are you doing it to me?" The voice ripped him from his thought process. "Sorry, what?" "That thing you did, to Jeremy, are you doing that to me?" Sherlock wondered whether to tell the truth or not, but then figured it didn't really matter. "Yeah, I'm doing the...er...thing, and it's called deducing." Sherlock answered, turning back to his microscope figuring John would feel a breach of privacy and hate him all over again, but to his surprise his response was "What did you see?" Sherlock looked back up and stared at the boy, wondering why he was being so nice. "I see a person with acute anger issues, Military parents, but you don't mind, you like things being in order, interpersonal relationships are very important to you but you know not to get too attached because you move around so much, you like danger, in fact you crave adrenaline, But overall...I see a kind, gentle and caring personality." Sherlock got lost in his own deduction, having to sort of snap himself out of it. When her noticed the odd atmosphere he cleared his throat and went back to his microscope, "So. That's all." He mumbled. John sat there in disbelief, feeling rather flattered and still amazed by Sherlock's ability to notice all of those things from a glance. "Incredible…" John whispered. "Hey Sherlock?" John called out, Sherlock grunting in response, "We should do this again sometime." Sherlock felt his eyes wander in the direction of this very complex boy, he began to feel...fondly...for him?


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

A few more months passed and the Christmas season was here. John and Sherlock found themselves spending a lot more time together, and becoming quite good friends. Every morning they went to the lab and John watched Sherlock meticulously conduct different experiments and marvel at the different results. Sherlock helped John with difficult homework and in return, John did his best to help Sherlock with his people skills.

"Sherlock, who do you usually hang out with, besides me?" John asked one day as they were just sitting in the lab as usual. "No one. I don't have friends." Sherlock said plainly, his icy blue eyes focussed on a kind of bacterial colony. "Well, you've got me." John replied looking over at Sherlock fondly. "Wait...You think...we're friends?" Sherlock said, stopping what he was doing to look at the one person who was constantly stopping him in his tracks. John looked confused and chuckled, "Well, yeah, of course you are." Sherlock's eyes shifted slightly, in thought if nothing else. "I've...never had a friend before." Sherlock said John raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Wait, never?" Sherlock shook his head in response, feeling a bit self conscious. John noticed the descending look on Sherlock's face and changed the subject. "What are you doing over Christmas break? Traveling anywhere?" Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes in annoyance "no, just staying at home with my stupid brother while my parents are off in the Caribbean." John glanced down and felt a little bad. "Well, maybe we could hang out?" John offered. Sherlock thought about it for a bit before he came to his conclusion. "Sure. Why not."

The holiday break came faster than anyone anticipated, and school was finally out. Sherlock trotted down the front steps in the schoolyard and was headed home when he was stopped by an unexpected blow to the back of his head. Sherlock grunted and stopped to see the face of his attacker. With secret hopes of it being a prank from John, Sherlock's spirits dropped when he saw Jeremy and his posse walking over. Sherlock's hand wandered to the back of his head and retrieved traces of white, flaky snow. He wondered what he should do, but Jeremy already stood in front of him with a smug look on his face, his small army looming behind him. "Hey freak." The tall boy spat, his chubby hand pushing Sherlock's shoulder, jolting him backwards. "Look, I just want to get home." Sherlock said avoiding eye contact and conflict at all costs. "You think it's funny to humiliate people do you?" Jeremy stepped far too close into Sherlock's personal space, making him very uncomfortable. Sherlock went to back away, but was forcefully pushed to the ground, looking up to see the glare of both rage and what seemed to be satisfaction glinting in the eyes of his abuser. Sherlock prepared for the worst, wondering just how bad the impending beating would be when from a distance he heard a shout intervene. Sherlock's head spun to see John hurtling toward Jeremy at frightening speeds, a look of pure rage plastered on his face. Only seconds later the threatening figure that loomed over Sherlock was rendered to a mass of screaming on the snowy ground, a smaller, yet aggressive figure on top of him, relentlessly beating into his face and chest. Sherlock scrambled to his knees and watched in terror as he saw John mercilessly accost this other boy, rendering this well known bully to tears begging for salvation. After what was only 10 seconds but felt like an hour, a teacher finally pulled the blond boy away, still swinging and shouting an assortment of curses about Jeremy and his mother. Sherlock felt a stream of warm tears, stinging the cold of his cheeks as he witnessed his friend, his only friend, being hauled away for standing up for him. An overwhelming sense of fear and guilt washed over Sherlock, who was still planted helplessly in the snow. His blue eyes, still wide with terror finally noticed the the bystanding crowd, whispering about the event that had occurred. Sherlock scrambled to his feet and ran as fast as he could home; the whole time wondering how much trouble his friend would be in, John must hate him now, if only Sherlock had just kept his mouth shut for once instead of deducing Jeremy, this never would have happened. When Sherlock got home he exiled himself to his room, immediately reduced to a fit of tears. He collapsed on his bed, his curls bouncing over his eyes.

John hustled out of the front office and back out to the school yard and searched for Sherlock. After frantically looking around with no success he stopped a boy who was walking his way "Oi, have you seen Sherlock?" A frightened look fell upon the boys face and he quickly stammered "Y-Yeah, as soon as you got dragged off he bolted." John's face fell, in disbelief as well as disappointment. He couldn't believe Sherlock would just abandon him like that. "Thanks mate." john said sadly, releasing his grip on the boys arm. John walked home and dealt with the anger of his parents. It felt like 20 years had passed when John finally got up the stairs to his room. John couldn't stop thinking about how Sherlock just left him...he didn't even wait until he got out. John turned on his side and buried his head into his pillow, staring off into the unknown, eventually trailing off to sleep.

The next day Sherlock bundled up and ventured out into the cold outdoors. He had memorized John's address upon seeing his file by mistake while pulling a particularly cruel prank on the receptionist. He trudged along, mumbling his explanation for abandoning John in such a situation under his breath, to ensure he said the right thing. "I'm so sorry, I left because I thought you'd think it was my fault that you got in trouble, and i thought you wouldn't want to be my friend anymore so I ran to avoid the confrontation." Sherlock mumbled. " _No, no, that's too casual.."_ he continued to recite the poorly made speech until he arrived at the red painted door that was the home of John Watson.

Sherlock nervously tapped his cold knuckles on the front door. He stood, frozen to his spot, shivering with anticipation. The door knob stirred, then the door opened, and there stood John. Sherlock smiled and sighed in relief, "Oh John, thank God you're home! Are you alright? what happened?" John stood with a stoic look on is face. John just stood there, giving Sherlock a look of what seemed to be resentment. "John? Are you angry with me?" Sherlock asked, his heart sinking slowly. John glanced to the side and inhaled sharply before answering "I don't know what I am…Sherlock, why did you just leave? You didn't even wait for me! I thought...I didn't know what to think!"John scolded. Sherlock's head lowered in shame, "I'm sorry John, I was so scared...No one...No one has ever even spoke out against my bullies let alone taken violent action for me...I didn't know what was going to happen to you." There was a brief silence before Sherlock spoke again. "I'm sorry I left. I shouldn't have run off, I should have waited, and I understand why you're mad, you have every right to be." By the time Sherlock finished, tears had already graced his red cheeks, and he turned to take the cold walk back home.

John found himself still livid. He couldn't place his finger on what got him as upset as he was. It was the betrayal he felt. How could Sherlock just leave after what John did or him? No thanks, no consolation, it was so selfish! John slammed the door and steamed up to his room.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

All through the Christmas break John and Sherlock didn't speak, and then school started. On the first day John and Sherlock prepared themselves for awkward glances across yards and classrooms, avoiding each other in the halls. John got to school, and took a deep breath before entering the building, not seeing Sherlock as he first stepped in was almost comforting. John took a few confident strides and entered his first class of the day, sitting in a different seat, next to some girls, who began fawning over his 'braveness', and 'how strong he was' John smiled it off, being polite, trying to forget the stress of confrontation when out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of familiar curls. His head perked up, thinking it was Sherlock, but it was just some other guy, his posture sank in disappointment. " _Come on John, what do you care? You're angry with him anyway, why do care if he shows up or not?"_ He thought to himself, although in his heart he knew he really did care.

Finally class started and still no sign of Sherlock, John relaxed in his chair, his mind always thinking about where he could be, if he was alright, should he forgive him. After the thoughts finally left his mind, the door opened and in walked a disgruntled Sherlock. "First day back and you're tardy, not a good start to the New Year Mr. Holmes." the teacher scolded. Sherlock didn't respond, but hurried to a seat in the back and sat abruptly, having no regard for what was happening in the class. John saw him and immediately was washed with a feeling of regret, and longing to make things right. For a moment he gave serious thought to the situation, and could see how Sherlock's reaction was warranted.

From the back of the room, Sherlock tried his hardest not to look at John; He didn't want to start anything or even acknowledge the guilt he felt about what had happened. The class seemed to drag on forever, and both of the boys just wanted it to end. You could practically cut the tension between the two of them with a knife by the time class was over, but from the first ring of the bell both of the boys sprang up desperate to leave. As John stood up, he made a hasty decision to wait by the door and talk to Sherlock then. John made sure to be the first one out of the room in order to wait, and as the class emptied he saw the mess of his friend, as he opened his mouth to call his name, one of the girls from the class pushed her way into his space and ruined the whole thing.

Sherlock noticed John's hasty retreat from the room " _He must still be pissed at me."_ He thought. Sherlock made his way down the aisle of chairs and into the hallway, all the while scanning for John, trying to observe his demeanor further, hoping there was more information to be gained to be sure if his only friend still basically hated him. Sherlock looked all infront and then turned his head back to see John talking with an annoyed look on his face, then he noticed his name slip from John's lips. " _What? He's talking about me?"_ Sherlock felt his heart sink low into his stomach. His mind raced with all of the possibilities but the only conclusion he came to was that John officially hated him, and it was all his fault.

-After John broke free of the girl, he continued to look for Sherlock but to no avail. Disheartened and feeling defeated John walked on slowly to his next class.

The rest of the day felt like an entire week, but finally the bell rang and school was out. John could focus on nothing else but what he would say to Sherlock. John bolted out of the room and to the front of the school yard, scanning the masses for his friend, his best friend. His eyes flicked over every face in vain, but finally he saw the familiar pale blue eyes he was looking for. With a sigh of relief, John sprinted over to his friend, heart in his hands prepared to make amends. "Sherlock!" He called out, stopping just in front of him only to be pushed to the side and continually ignored. "Sherlock?" John called out confused and hurt. Immediately John went after him, "Wait! I just want to talk to you!" John pleaded, without stopping Sherlock barked back "Why? So you can find out more about the freak and tell everyone?!" John had to actually stop a moment in utter bewilderment. "What the bloody hell are you on about? I haven't said a damn thing about you!" He retorted, slowly becoming angry. John and Sherlock finally faced each other beyond the masses and on the sidewalk. "Save it for your friends! I saw you talking to those girls after class, I heard my name come out of your mouth!" John's jaw hit the floor, his eyebrows furrowed in rage. "I was trying to find _YOU_ , You stupid git!" John screamed into his friend's face. "Why? To make fun of me? To impress the rest of your stupid friends?!" Sherlock screamed back. At this point John thought he was going to have a literal meltdown. "YOU are my friend Sherlock! You're my _best_ friend. I wanted to find you to apologize for being a complete ass! But you know what? Forget it! You're the one being an ass." as the the last words left his lips, John turned and stormed off, not even in the direction of his house, but anywhere to get away from Sherlock.

Yay!


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

It was 3 weeks since the fight, John and Sherlock were refusing to even look at each other. School became long, and avoiding each other became tedious. It seemed fate wanted to make things even worse, John's birthday was coming up, and he didn't have any real friends. All of the people he had invited were busy, or said maybe, "Let me ask my parents" but John knew they wouldn't come. " _Sherlock would have come."_ He kept thinking to himself, and he had the chance to ask him, to make amends, but it was clear what Sherlock thought of him, he made it very clear that he thought John was a lying, gossiping idiot, out to get him just like everybody else. John kept tricking himself into believing that Sherlock was an arrogant, presumptuous prick, but deeper in his heart, he longed for his friend.

John's party was that weekend, and finally the day arrived. A few kids showed up, about 9 or 10 kids who's mum's probably made them come; but they were pleasant enough and they brought presents, and had a good time. John pretended he was having a good time, and part of him was, but the whole party he kept his eye on the door, hoping that Sherlock would come walking through it. But the hours came and went, games were played, cake was eaten, presents opened, and finally the first parents came to retrieve their kids. One by one they filtered away, thanking John and his parents for the good time. After the last attendant had left, John sighed deeply, finally coming to peace that his only true friend had either truly decided to cut him out of his life or simply forgotten his birthday, Either way, it didn't matter.

John had nothing better to do than to start cleaning up all of the wrapping paper, plates and food dispersed across the house. After everything was cleaned up and put away, dinner was ready and John and his parents sat down to eat. It was quiet at first, nothing really needed to be said, but of course parents the way they are have to start small talk and started up with the questions, "Did you have fun?" John's mom asked. "Yeah, it was a good party." John responded. The rest of the meal was quiet and a bit tense, but finally everyone had cleaned their plates and began cleaning up. John was just about to go upstairs when his dad called him. "Hey John! I almost forgot, you got a letter today." He extended his arm with the pale envelope in his hand, and gently John accepted it, mumbling a small thanks. He continued to trot up the stairs and into his bedroom, flopping onto the bed a bit tired from the day's affairs. With a sigh he examined the envelope, a piercing white, with a wax seal with the symbol of a lion stamped into in. Carefully he pulled the flap open and pulled out a piece of what looked like aged parchment. He unfolded it with care and completely stopped when he read it. His stomach fluttered, and his heart skipped a beat. Immediately his eyes became blurred with tears of regret, and joy, and a group of other emotions he could not name. Tears streamed down his faces and dripped onto the page that had rendered him in this state, because this was no ordinary letter, it was _His_ letter, and in that beautiful calligraphy, in the shimmering emerald green ink, was the name Sherlock.

END

Thank you all for reading! 3


End file.
